


Sometimes the Goddess Answers Your Prayers

by Vexify (labelleplume)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Eagles Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Blue Lions Sylvain Jose Gautier, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labelleplume/pseuds/Vexify
Summary: Sylvain waits for Felix on the Tailtean Plains, sure he'll finally die at his lover's hands. It's only fate. Fate has other plans.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	Sometimes the Goddess Answers Your Prayers

Sylvain always knew he would die young. He just didn’t expect it to be like this.

Rain pours down on the Tailtean Plains making the ground muddy and slick. He’d abandoned his horse at the edges of the battlefield. She’d only slow him down and some part of him knows this is the end. No reason for her to die with him.

The Lance of Ruin pulses an ugly orange glow, barely breaking through the blood caked on it. Sylvain lost count of the number of soldiers he’d killed today. After Rhea abandoned them he became the last line of defense. Defending what, he’s not sure. Dimitri is lost to madness. Meanwhile, he fights alongside the horrific remnants of his countrymen, Demonic Beasts. Even Dedue.

A cry rings out from his left and Sylvain barely has to turn before the Empire soldier is impaled on his lance. In the past, he might have made a sarcastic joke about how he was finally taking his training seriously, just lighten the morbid mood of battle. Not today. It’s too real, the mountain of corpses at his feet, literal and figurative. Besides, this is all just prolonging the inevitable. The Kingdom barely had the forces to face Edelgard before, even when they had the Church’s assistance. Now it’s hopeless. They’re all going to die here. Well, everyone except Felix.

_Dammit Fe. Why did you have to side with her?_

Sylvain looks out across the battlefield, desperately seeking out some sign that Ingrid or Mercedes is still alive. He sees flashes of white magic and a glimpse of a Pegasus knight, but from this distance he can’t tell if it’s them or other random soldiers. An axe cleaves down on him and Sylvain raises the Lance of Ruin to block it. A normal lance might have splintered under the force. But not a Relic. It’s almost too easy to shove the solder back and slash her chest open. Sylvain is still fighting. Not to win, that’s impossible. Not for honor, he’d always been a good-for-nothing. Not even in self-defense. No. Sylvain is waiting for someone.

* * *

Laughter bursts from Sylvain’s lips as he takes in Felix’s disgruntled expression.

“What?” Felix snaps, “What is so funny to you?”

“Awwww Fe, I had no idea I had this effect on you!”

It only serves to make Felix blush even harder and turn his face away. Sylvain sits up on his bed and shifts over to sit next to Felix.

“I meant it, you know. You’re beautiful.”

“I… Thank you.”

It’s true. Felix’s blue-black hair flows down the sides of his face and down his back like spilled ink. His eyes are warm and inviting, a fresh cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s morn. Sylvain could spend an eternity peppering soft kisses down the lean lines of Felix’s body, reverently worshipping the swordsman.

They’re still new at this. Sometimes Felix doesn’t know what to do with Sylvain’s flirting and romantic overtures. Sometimes Sylvain worries that Felix doesn’t care for him, not always secure in the belief that Felix’s harsh demeanor is a façade. But sometimes they’re just right with each other and the two of them can tumble into each others’ beds effortlessly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Felix’s mouth as he turns to look up at Sylvain. Now it’s Sylvain’s turn.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Sylvain pouts.

“ _Feeeeee_.”

Felix surges upward and captures Sylvain’s lips in a kiss, tangling his hands in that bright red hair. It’s fierce and unyielding, consuming Sylvain in all of its passion and desperation. By the time Felix finally breaks away Sylvain can barely breathe. Felix tilts his head to whisper into Sylvain’s ear.

“I was thinking you’re a handsome cheeky bastard.”

And he looks at Sylvain with such adoration that just once in his life, Sylvain thinks maybe he has the right to be happy.

* * *

The battle is dragging on and Sylvain’s strength is fading. A cut on his forehead keeps dribbling blood into his left eye making it difficult to see. It’ll be soon now. Sylvain casts his gaze around him, trying to make out through the rain and chaos if there’s a familiar figure there. Just thinking about Felix makes his chest ache. He hates Felix for leaving. Sylvain loves him anyway. With a grunt, Sylvain uses the Lance of Ruin to prop himself upright, barely clinging on. He steadies his legs and lashes out once more, puncturing a wyvern rider that had tried to swoop down from above. Sylvain winces slightly at the animal’s pained screech. He always hated killing animals, unwilling combatants as they are.

But then, they’re all unwilling combatants aren’t they? No one asked to be dragged into this goddess-forsaken war. Edelgard and her crushing ambitions brought this upon everyone. It didn’t matter how many people she had to kill, how many lands she had to invade, how many dreams she needed to shatter to see her vision of a new Fodlan come to fruition. Sylvain lets out a pained laugh. At this rate there will barely be anyone to see it. Maybe Felix will see it. The thought gives Sylvain some comfort. If Sylvain has to die in this pointless conflict, at least Felix will get to enjoy the aftermath.

_I’m not much for prayer, Goddess. But keep Felix safe, will you? I’m not going to be around much longer to do it._

And then, as if the Goddess is laughing at him, Felix is there in front of Sylvain. His light leather armor is torn in places, cutting through his blue fur tunic. Sylvain can see crimson stains in a few different points. Felix’s face is pale and gaunt, he must have lost a lot of blood. But he’s here now, a glint of determination in his eyes as he grips his sword in front of him. Sylvain relaxes. Now at last, he can let go. There was always only going to be one person who could kill Sylvain.

* * *

“Syl, _please_. I’m begging you, come with me.”

Felix’s eyes are wide and pleading. Sylvain had never seen him like this before, at least, not in years. Sarcastic Felix, sharp Felix, mildly amused Felix. Those Sylvain knew how to deal with. But scared Felix? He hadn’t acted that way since Miklan left Sylvain on the mountainside at night in the middle of winter and Sylvain had almost – _Oh._ Felix is afraid for him.

There’s too many things happening and Sylvain can’t make sense of it all. Edelgard is the Flame Emperor? And the Professor sided with her? Up is down and left is right and now Felix wants to defect to the Empire’s army.

“Why would you fight for her?” Sylvain asks, not a note of accusation in his tone, only bewilderment.

“She wants to dispose of the Crest system. I thought you wanted that.”

“Not at the expense of our friends and our country Felix!”

And now it’s out in the open. Hurt and betrayal finally made their way through the gauntlet of overwhelming feelings and Sylvain can’t help but lash out.

“Sure I don’t want to be forced into a marriage with some random noblewoman. That doesn’t mean I’m willing to cut through Ingrid to get it!”

Felix winces, but his posture doesn’t change. Nor his commitment.

“I can’t fight for the Boar. I won’t.”

Felix’s hand tightens on the pommel of his sword until his knuckles turn white. It’s hard to believe that only a few days before his hands were soft and gentle on the insides of Sylvain’s thighs.

“What about me?”

Sylvain hates how weak his voice sounds, how pathetic.

“Come with me,” Felix asks again, his gaze piercing through Sylvain’s soul. It’s tense, anxious with anticipation. A glint of hope.

There’s a hard lump in Sylvain’s throat and for a second he thinks he’ll say yes because until this moment Sylvain was sure that he could follow this man anywhere. Every fiber of his being burns with longing, yearning to reach out his hand and grasp Felix’s. It’s torture just to breathe in the air to say the words Sylvain has to say, _hates_ that he has to say.

“I can’t.”

It’s barely a whisper but Felix hears. His eyes tighten and he stays for a moment, eyes pleading for Sylvain to change his mind. But he doesn’t and Felix leaves. Sylvain’s chest is hollow, empty of the man who once filled his days with joy.

* * *

“Hey, Felix,” Sylvain gets out through rasping breaths.

For old time’s sake he manages to throw out a halfhearted wink and some semblance of a grin. Felix is staring at him, motionless. Sylvain grunts and cradles his left side where an assassin got him earlier.

“Remember when we were kids,” he huffs out, a trace of laughter through the pain, “and we made a promise about dying together?”

Something flashes over Felix’s face. Sylvain thinks he sees the hint of a tremble in Felix’s arms but when he blinks it’s gone.

“I remember.”

It’s low, gravelly and so much crueler than Sylvain remembers. But he drinks it in anyway, savoring his last chances to hear his lover’s voice.

“Well,” Sylvain wheezes, “seems we’re about to kill each other.”

Felix is definitely shaking now, his head turned sharply to the side. But it stills after a beat and Felix turns towards him.

“Sorry, Sylvain. You’ll die first.”

There’s no waver in his words. But it’s soft, almost tender. It’s time. Sylvain drags his left arm to grip his lance, wanting to die on his feet with a weapon in his hands. He won’t dishonor Felix with anything less.

With a cry Sylvain charges forward, using the last of his strength to move, holding the Lance of Ruin steady. He can’t do much more than use momentum to make his attacks now. It’s far too easy for Felix to step to the side and he brings his blade up to slash down at Sylvain’s open back. Sylvain twists, dodging the attack, and makes one last effort to thrust the lance in Felix’s direction. But Felix knocks the lance away, Sylvain’s limbs finally failing him as it falls from his grasp and a sharp pain blossoms in his chest. He blinks and Felix is looking up at him, sword impaling Sylvain all the way through. Water streams down Felix’s face and Sylvain can’t tell if it’s tears or rain. He likes to think it’s tears.

“I’m glad… it was you,” Sylvain whispers.

Felix drops his sword like he’s been burned and surges forward to catch Sylvain as he collapses.

“You _fool_. Why do you always, _always_ – “

“Always what Fe?”

Sylvain’s consciousness is slipping but he hangs on, wanting to catch every last second he can with Felix. He tries to bring his hand up to cradle Felix’s face but his body betrays him. Felix sees and holds his hand up, pressing his warm skin into Sylvain’s palm.

“I love you.”

Felix’s confession is hoarse and jagged. There’s nothing Sylvain can do now but if he could he’d take it all back. He’d run away with Felix, join Edelgard’s army if he had to, anything to spare Felix this heartbreak.

“I love you too. I don’t…” Sylvain is struggling now, willing his tongue to form words through sheer force of will, “blame you. I forgive you Fe.”

His hands slip from Felix’s face and Felix lets out a howl of anguish that reverberates across the battlefield, a note of agony that pierces through every person present. The Professor approaches, face twisted in grief.

**_(Glass shatters, the pieces of the conflict restitching themselves, winding back time.)_ **

Felix knocks Sylvain’s lance away and Sylvain sees it, sees the moment when Felix’s blade will finally pierce him through and his breath hitches and he waits.

But it doesn’t come. In a flash so quick Sylvain isn’t even sure where she came from, the segments of the Sword of the Creator are wrapped around Felix’s sword, dragging it to the side. The Professor, with her bright mint green hair and that familiar cloak, is sprinting towards them already retracting her blade back towards her.

“No Felix!”

Felix turns to her, confusion and pain etched across his face at the realization of what he almost did. The Professor brings up her sword and parries away any soldiers seeking to gain the advantage. She glances at them over her shoulder.

“Go.”

They both look at her blankly in shock.

“Go!”

Her gaze blazes with determination and she blocks another slash aimed to cut their lives short.

“I can’t,” the Professor’s voice breaks, “I can’t watch anyone else die.”

They’re still standing there, limbs not responding.

“Leave this place! Don’t return. Put this war behind you.”

Felix snaps out of it first. He picks up his blade and crouches down to retrieve the Lance of Ruin. Felix straps the lance firmly to Sylvain’s back and ducks under Sylvain’s arm to support him.

“Come on,” Felix says. They hobble into the treeline while the Professor protects their retreat. Felix practically has to throw Sylvain onto his horse before Sylvain manages to catch himself on the saddle and drag himself up. Felix climbs up in front of him and pulls Sylvain’s arms securely around his torso while he flicks the reins. The mount, sensing her master’s presence, canters away from the battlefield. They’re free.


End file.
